


Heat Transfer

by konekat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Hance - Freeform, M/M, pure fluff, winter time cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konekat/pseuds/konekat
Summary: It's friggin' cold, and Lance does not have the patience to listen to Hunk's medical trivia.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [choking_on_roses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/choking_on_roses/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for the absolutely amazing [choking-on-roses](http://choking-on-roses.tumblr.com/). Rosa, all I can say is that I don’t even know how this turned out this way? It’s utterly ridiculous, and the prose is dizzyingly convoluted for no other reason than the fact that I got completely carried away while writing. Not to mention that the entire thing is just overwhelming amounts of fluff. But I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The idea is taken from [this post](http://konekat.tumblr.com/post/153495619109/archangelruind-my-friend-is-studying-for-the).
> 
> Fair warning: I know veeeery little about pre-med and med programs. I just kind of quickly cobbled together an understanding of the process to have a general idea for this little fic. If there’s anything majorly glaring here, first off, sorry, and second, let me know :D

“Okay, but seriously, _why_?” Lance groans loudly, shoving his numb fingers into his coat pockets as the wind kicks up. “It’s a friggin’ _Sunday_ , Hunk.”

Hunk’s breath billows in an astonishingly thick cloud as he sighs—a far lighter, less exasperated noise than Lance’s whiny drawl. “Oh hush,” Hunk admonishes him, shooting a sideways glance at Lance. “You know very well why.”

And he does. Of course he does. It’s just a simple fact that Hunk does better at keeping a routine if he does it every single day, no exceptions—not even for weekends. He’s been this way as long as Lance can remember.

So of _course_ Lance knows. But that sure as hell isn’t going to stop him from whining and wheedling and expending every possible effort to change Hunk’s mind. 

“I know a lot of things, for your information,” Lance tells him loftily. “Like the fact that your horror of an exam isn’t for another three months. Or the fact that you literally _don’t need to take it so friggin’ early in the year_.”

Hunk’s face scrunches into an irked frown, and Lance feels an immediate stab of remorse. 

Sure, it might be ass o’clock on a Sunday morning, and sure, Lance might be out in friggin’ nine degree weather—nine! degrees! Fahrenheit!—and _sure_ , he might have failed to grab his usual cup of coffee in his groggy rush to follow Hunk out the door…

But— _but_ —as Lance has already so painstakingly established, he knows a lot of things. Like how ridiculously hard Hunk has been studying for the MCAT. And just how important it is to Hunk that he gets a good score. And the numerous reasons why Hunk has opted to leave enough room to take the test a second time this year, _just in case_.

And so Lance _also_ is painfully aware why Hunk—more than anyone else in the entire world—does not deserve the classic McClain sass at this particular moment. 

So, with a particularly drawn out sigh, Lance backs off. It’s not _quite_ an apology, perhaps, by the generally accepted definition of the word. But it _is_ a deferential acknowledgement, which—coming from Lance—translates to nearly the same thing.

Hunk, of course—being a man who _also_ knows many things—(perhaps, Lance acknowledges, even more than he does)—understands Lance’s silence for what it is. He must, at least, judging by the way his face relaxes back into an easy smile. A smile that says, _It’s okay, I understand_ , and somehow warms Lance’s chest despite the prying cold attacking him from every angle. 

“You really don’t have to come, you know,” Hunk tells him suddenly. 

This response is so completely unexpected that, for a moment, Lance simply pins Hunk with a gaping, incredulous glare. 

Before he can open his mouth to argue, Hunk adds, “I mean, it always makes a big difference when you help me study, but Sundays are your only day off. I seriously won’t mind if you want to go back and just spend the morning chilling instead.”

Lance is rolling his eyes so hard that it hurts before Hunk is even done. “Oh, come off it,” he replies scornfully, landing a playful punch on Hunk’s arm. The wind shifts slightly, throwing blustering, cold air against Lance’s side, and he quickly returns his hand to his pocket. “We’re already halfway across campus. At this point, it’ll actually be _less_ of a pain to just get to the library.”

As if Lance would _actually_ offer to spend his one morning off helping his boyfriend and not really mean it. Lance takes back his earlier statement. Hunk apparently still has plenty more to learn—he really should know this much about Lance by now. 

Hunk chuckles under his breath, creating an entire cascade of clouds in the crisp morning air, and suddenly Lance realizes. Hunk doesn’t doubt the sincerity of his offer—he’s simply being _Hunk_. Namely, a big, ridiculous softie who spends far too much time worrying about everyone else’s needs that he seems to forget that he’s allowed to be a little selfish too, sometimes. Quite honestly, the guy probably deserves to be selfish as often as he friggin’ wants, given how overwhelmingly kind he is. 

The warmth in Lance’s chest spreads just an _inch_ further, and Lance can’t fight the small, content smile nudging his lips upward.

A surprisingly strong gust of wind howls down the sidewalk, slicing cleanly through Lance’s coat and causing him to bark in outrage. 

“You know,” he yells over the roar, “it would be one hell of a lot nicer if it weren’t _so friggin’ cold_.”

Hunk shrugs, though his face is scrunched against the powerful blast and his cheeks are beginning to redden. There’s a momentary shift as the wind grows _even stronger_ , then thankfully subsides—for now. Hunk takes a relieved breath and says, “Hey, at least it’s not snowing.”

“Oh, oh no,” Lance shoots back. “Snow is not a problem. Even when it’s coming down hard, it doesn’t usually make me any colder. But this goddamn _wind_ , on the other hand…” He peters off into an irritated growl, glaring at the sky ahead. “It would be one hell of a lot nicer if the cold and the wind weren’t actively trying to chill me to the bone.”

“Well, actually,” Hunk cuts in, nudging his shoulder into Lance’s. “It’s kind of the other way around. I was just studying a question about this yesterday.”

Lance groans again. “Hunk, _no_. We’re currently schlepping through ass-freezing cold. Can’t the medical trivia wait until we’re actually _in_ the library?”

Hunk doesn’t bother to grace this question with a response. “It has to do with heat transfer,” he explains excitedly, completely ignoring the flat glare Lance is now directing at him. “It’s not that the air is making _you_ cold. It’s more like your tiny human body is trying to warm up the entire universe.”

Lance stops short, his mind too busy trying to wrap itself around the concept to operate his legs successfully. “Wow,” he breathes. “That’s…” He trails, off, struggling to find the proper words.

Hunk laughs and brushes him off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a stupid way of explaining it—”

“No, actually,” Lance insists. “It’s not stupid. That’s actually, like, some pretty deep shit.” _And totally fucking adorable_ , he adds to himself. 

Hunk snorts. “It’s not ‘deep,’” he reasons, rolling his eyes. “It’s science.”

The wind nips at Lance’s nose and ears, making him wince. Gritting his teeth, Lance digs his hands even deeper into his pockets and forces his feet to start moving again. At this rate, he’s running the risk of having his shoes ice over, stranding him in this arctic wasteland, where he will no doubt die a slow, painful, freezing death. 

As Hunk falls back into step with him, Lance says, “Well, you can tell your science that I quit. This little body of mine doesn’t stand a chance on its own against the wind, let alone the entire universe.”

“Awww,” Hunk croons. “Poor thing.”

Lance whips his head around at the sound of a zipper being pulled down, only to find Hunk undoing his fluffy winter coat. 

“You big dummy!” Lance snaps, watching with horror as Hunk exposes himself to the cold. “Are you _trying_ to die of hypothermia?”

Hunk grabs the edges of his coat and holds them open—a clear invitation. “Who says you have to do it alone?” he asks, an eye-crinkling, heart-melting grin lighting up his face. “I’ll warm the universe with you.”

Lance is quite certain no words could ever form an adequate response to a statement of this magnitude.

Instead, utterly defeated, he closes the space between them with a single step, weak legs buckling as he allows himself to fall into Hunk’s warmth. Hunk wastes no time wrapping him in an enveloping embrace, covering Lance’s back with the overlapping edges of his coat to block out the greedy wind. 

Lance sighs—a satisfied, contented sound, this time—as he leans against Hunk’s chest and nestles his face into the crook of Hunk’s neck. His body moves with the rise and fall of Hunk’s breathing, each exhale fanning across the back of Lance’s neck like a small, hot breeze chasing away the winter wind. 

_God_ , what had he ever done to deserve this incredible man? 

Really, Lance is quite certain that the universe has obviously made some mistake, because the answer to that is _absolutely nothing_. No one could _ever_ be good enough to deserve even a fraction of Hunk’s love. This, above all, Lance knows.

(Not that he intends to tell the universe of its mistake. Not ever. He is not so foolish a man as to willingly give Hunk up. Even if he falls short, Lance will gladly spend the rest of his life striving to love and support Hunk in every way that he can.)

Hunk presses Lance even closer, and Lance wriggles his arms beneath the coat until he’s able to wrap Hunk in an equally tight hug. After a moment, the flutter of Hunk’s breathing is replaced by the delicate press of cold, chapped lips. Despite the chill, Hunk’s fairy soft kisses are an entirely welcome sensation. Reflexively, Lance fists his hands in the back of Hunk’s shirt.

“We should go,” Lance says reluctantly, his voice muffled within the crease of Hunk’s neck. 

Hunk hums in response—a noise that sounds like agreement, though he makes zero effort to move. 

“Hunk,” Lance says gently, fists still firmly wrapped in the fabric of his shirt. “We’re actually going to freeze to death out here.”

“I won’t let us,” Hunk replies insistently. He nuzzles Lance’s neck, then slowly whispers his lips along what little of Lance’s shoulder he can reach. 

If anything, Lance’s legs feel even weaker than before. 

“MCAT,” Lance reminds him firmly. “Good grades. Med school. Dr. Garett, renowned pediatrician.”

Hunk manages to give Lance an _ever so slightly_ tighter squeeze before gently untangling himself. As soon as he pulls away, the wind rushes in to fill his absence, pressing in on Lance threateningly from all sides. Even so, Hunk’s lingering warmth thrums through Lance’s veins and strengthens his resolve.

“C’mon,” Lance says, offering out a hand. He threads his gloved fingers through Hunk’s, then yanks him down the sidewalk. “The sooner we get inside, the sooner I can grab one of those vending machine coffees.” 

Hunk laughs, and the sound echoes down Lance’s spine, trapping itself in his chest and rattling his heart. It settles over him like a spell, keeping the chill at bay, and in that moment Lance _knows_. Maybe they can’t reach the whole universe—but somehow, between the two of them, they’ll manage to warm up their own, tiny little corner.


End file.
